


a spark to light my flame

by stillicide_snow



Series: things unseen (are not unmade) [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Autistic David Rose, Coming Out, Episode: s04e12 Singles Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24002269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillicide_snow/pseuds/stillicide_snow
Summary: It’s been months, and he certainly hopes they know each other pretty well by now, but he still thrills at the sight of David like this thing they have is brand new. He’s always aware of where David is in relation to him, like David has some kind of gravitational pull on him.After Singles Week, David and Patrick still have something to say to each other.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: things unseen (are not unmade) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811956
Comments: 29
Kudos: 246





	a spark to light my flame

**Author's Note:**

> My first Schitt's Creek fic! Thank you so much [@daintyharru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daintyharru) for betaing/whatever the American version of Britpicking is called.
> 
> Title is from Nerina Pallot's song [Love Electric](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQSeFD17lBQ).
> 
> Set immediately after 4.12 Singles Week.

David brings him tea that night as they're getting ready for bed. He jokes that he still owes Patrick one from earlier, even though he’d brought one when he'd made it back from the café, face flushed with happiness for himself and for Alexis. Patrick cups the mug between his hands and lets it warm him up while David pulls back the covers. David doesn't comment on the floral print on the comforter, or the frills on the pillowcases, or any of the other things in the room that usually draw his gentle ire. Instead he just smiles at Patrick, a soft, shy thing Patrick hasn't seen in a while. David is so much less careful with his affection than he used to be, letting his emotions run across his face more freely than when they first met, and Patrick is grateful for that, but he misses these small moments from before they really knew each other.

Patrick was never much good at the early days of relationships, before. He felt much more at ease in the later settled moments, when the spark of attraction has dulled somewhat but in its place there’s a steady ember of familiarity and trust and history built together. For a long time he thought that that was all he would get.

Then he met David.

It’s been months, and he certainly hopes they know each other pretty well by now, but he still thrills at the sight of David like this thing they have is brand new. He can’t take his eyes off David when they’re alone, and even in the store his gaze drifts across to him without meaning to. He’s always aware of where David is in relation to him, like David has some kind of gravitational pull on him. That steady ember is there between them now, growing a little more every day, but the initial spark that Patrick so often struggled with is still out in full force, sometimes distractingly so.

He takes a sip of his tea and blinks at the taste.

“This is chamomile,” he says, looking at David.

“Um, yes?” David says. “It’s just - you were by yourself a lot in the store today, so I figured you were on your feet a lot? And you prefer chamomile when your feet are tired, so…” He trails off, presumably because Patrick is grinning at him like a loon.

“Is that so?” Patrick asks, gently teasing. “What about days when we’ve done inventory?”

“Peppermint,” David says instantly, like he doesn’t have to think about the answer. Like he just knows.

There’s something swelling in Patrick’s chest again, and he feels a quiet thrill when he remembers that he doesn’t have to hold it back anymore; he can just say it. So he does.

“I love you.”

David tilts his head back, eyes squeezed shut, and huffs out a breath. His hands dance between them, fluttering like birds, and Patrick aches to hold them in his own. He doesn’t have to reach for them, though, because they settle on the comforter between the two of them.

“I love you, too,” David says, twisting one of his rings.

“Well, that’s good,” Patrick says, teasing again, “Otherwise we’d both have to go to that Lock and Key event your mom’s running tomorrow.”

“Okay, absolutely not,” David says indignantly, “If I were ever to grace an event for singles with my presence, it would be the original one in Ireland, not a knockoff being organized by my family.”

“Ah,” Patrick nods, “for the authenticity.” He decides to give David a pass for the rest of that sentence. He still doesn’t totally understand his boyfriend’s relationship with Alexis, but it’s clear despite all the antagonism they adore each other. Alexis has done a hell of a thing, for herself and for the town, and he knows that David is proud of her. “I probably would have gone.”

David’s answering _hmm?_ sounds genuinely interested, so Patrick presses on, louder: “I would have gone. To Singles Week. I used to try things like that all the time - singles’ events and speed dating and such. When - when Rachel and I were broken up, I would try to meet other women, find the spark again, or - something. And it was fine, at first, just talking, but I couldn’t take it further than that, so I just… went back to Rachel. I thought that was what I needed, something familiar, someone who - but it wasn’t, it didn’t work, because -” His voice is shaking and he can feel the heat rising up his neck, but David’s dark eyes are fixed on his face, so attentive and so patient, and he gathers all his courage up with David’s faith in him and says, “Because I’m gay.”

The room is quiet but for Patrick’s shaky breaths.

“Thank you,” David says after a moment.

“For what?” Patrick asks before he has a chance to realize what that sounds like.

“Thank you for telling me,” David says. “I’m guessing you haven’t told a lot of people, and I’m - grateful. For being one of the people you trust with this.”

Patrick huffs out a laugh at that, at the thought that David could need to be _told_ that Patrick’s gay when he’s been present, and more often than not at least partly responsible, for every moment that's led to Patrick saying it out loud to the man he loves. But it occurs to him that David is right: he hasn't told a lot of people, and none in so many words. He’s known it for a long time - longer, probably, than even he realizes, because he spent so much time pushing the thought away - but even in Rachel’s room at the motel, knowing that the best thing in his life was two rooms away and furious with him, he couldn’t say it.

He lets himself meet David’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, “Yeah, I - I don’t know why I couldn’t, um. Why I wasn’t -” His hands are shaking, jostling his tea, and David is there, setting the mug on the dresser, then rubbing circles gently on Patrick’s shoulder while he steadies his breathing.

“I’m proud of you,” he says after a moment, and Patrick has to swallow a sob. He thinks _me, too_ , and focuses on the circles David is tracing, counter-clockwise and so warm even through his pajama shirt.

They sit quietly together, the only sounds their breathing and the muffled TV from Ray’s room. Patrick feels his heart rate steady but doesn’t move under David’s hand; he knows David sometimes does this to soothe himself as much as to soothe Patrick and thinks he might need that after today. He’s proved right a moment later, when David’s body tenses but his hands keep moving, and then David’s pulling away.

“I’m autistic,” he tells Patrick. He's looking away from Patrick, staring instead at his own hands. His fingers twist furiously at one of his rings.

“Thank you for telling me,” Patrick says and waits. He’s learned to follow David’s lead sometimes, reading David’s tone and body language and letting that dictate whether he responds with teasing or with sincerity. He’ll do that now - he’ll do whatever David needs him to do - but he wants to thank David first.

“Are you upset?” David asks, voice small.

“ _No_ ,” Patrick says firmly. He's following David's lead here, he wants to match David's tone, but - _no_. “I'm glad you told me. I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me. I guess I just - I want to be sure that I know what not to do, so I don’t upset you. And apologize for… for times I’ve upset you before without realizing.” He’s sure there must have been moments, and now that David’s told him he’s flicking through their memories together, looking for signs.

“Okay,” David says. His eyes are on Patrick’s face again, totally fixed on him, so Patrick returns his gaze. David purses his lips, then murmurs, “I just don’t want you to think I’m being stupid or fussy when I’m, um, being particular? About things?”

“Of course,” Patrick says. He wants to follow that up, because something twists in his chest at David’s words and he worries that other people have thought that about David when he’s only being himself. He doesn’t ask, though, because he rather suspects David is reaching his limit for emotional vulnerability for the night. That conversation can wait. Instead he sits there, with the man he loves, and drinks him in.

“I also don’t love the sports metaphors?” David says in a rush. “Idioms generally, I don’t really know what, um -” He sounds lost again, and tired, so Patrick does the two things that have been easy for him from the moment he met David: he smiles at him, and he teases him.

“Ah,” he says, “and here I thought you just really hated baseball.”

“Oh, no, I do. I am definitely not a fan of,” he gestures, hands fluttering between them again, “the bases.”

Patrick laughs, and David looks pleased with himself but still a little unsure. Three times in one day is probably more than David will tolerate in the future, but Patrick can’t bear to see the uncertainty on his face, so he says, “I love you, David” and watches, fond, as David tilts his head back, eyes fluttering closed. David looks like he needs a minute and Patrick feels suddenly exhausted, so he presses a kiss to David’s cheek and excuses himself to pour away his cold tea and wash the cup.

When he comes back he finds David tucked under the comforter, with his phone charging on the bedside table next to the dish where he puts his rings on nights he stays over. Patrick aches at the sight of it, at how much like home this feels, at how lucky he is to have the spark and the ember with David. He thinks _I’m so glad I get to have this_. He thinks _I never want to stop having this_.

He climbs into bed beside the man he loves, and his hand finds David’s before he even knows he’s reaching for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> This is only my second fanfic ever so feedback is very welcome. I'm also [on Tumblr](https://flashbastard.tumblr.com), come say hey!


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